


One Day You'll Say These Words

by allwaswell16



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Aristocracy, Best Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Harry is Viscount Selley, Jealousy, Kissing, Light Angst, London, Louis is an earl, M/M, Mild Smut, Mutual Pining, POV Louis, Regency Romance, Yorkshire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-19 19:22:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11904540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allwaswell16/pseuds/allwaswell16
Summary: Growing up together in Yorkshire has led to a lifelong friendship between Louis Tomlinson, the future Marquess of Rotherham, and Harry Styles, the heir to a viscount. When Harry suddenly inherits his uncle’s title and estate much earlier than expected, Louis must watch his friend struggle under the weight of these new responsibilities, including searching for a wife with a dowry large enough to save his estate. However, sitting idly by as Harry looks for a bride brings some unexpected feelings to the surface.A friends to lovers story set in the Regency era.





	One Day You'll Say These Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LSFOREVER](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSFOREVER/gifts).



> LSFOREVER, I've changed the prompt around quite a bit, so I hope you will still enjoy the fic I've written you! Eep. I tried to keep the spirit of the prompt and kept in mind some of the things you said you would like to be included. 
> 
> I tried to keep this as historically accurate as possible as I'm a huge fan of Regency era novels. However, I'm sure there are still mistakes here and there. Also, there is no period specific homophobia as requested by the prompter, so I've tailored the story to reflect that. It really opened up a lot more options for the story!
> 
> Thank you so much to my beta [taggiecb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taggiecb/pseuds/taggiecb) for all the hand holding as usual and to my Brit picker [yousopugly](http://yousopugly.tumblr.com/) for all your help and encouragment! <3 <3  
> The title is from 'Something Great' by One Direction.

**~Prologue~**

 

Yorkshire 1810

 

The late July sun winds its rays through the scattered clouds and over the Yorkshire hills. Louis breathes deeply as though to inhale the freedom that summer at home brings him. Whilst London does hold many entertainments for a young boy, it also brings tutors and the foul air you can’t quite escape in Town.

No, young Lord Tomlinson is quite happy that the Season is over and his family has retired to the country. They won’t need to return to London until Parliament is back in session and the marquess, his father, is needed back in the House of Lords.

Louis quickly makes his way through the formal garden, dodging between topiary hedges and rose bushes. He walks purposefully towards the stables and reacquaints himself with the horses. He exercises his father’s dogs and roams through the wooded parkland, making sure to take a brief look at the lake.

He smiles as he looks in at the glassy surface of the water and watches the flash of a fish streak through it. Soon enough, Harry will be here to enjoy the lake with him. He imagines their past summers spent fishing and hunting and riding and stealing scones from Cook. His heart beats a bit faster at the thought of seeing him again. Louis has many other friends, though mainly in London, but none of his friends are quite like Harry.

There’s just always been something about Harry. It may have merely to do with the fact that Louis has no brothers. Or perhaps, because they’ve grown up together in a sense with their mothers being such close friends. Perhaps, it’s just the proximity as Harry’s often been for a visit at his uncle’s estate which borders the Tomlinson’s estate to the east. Whilst all these reasons are well and good, Louis knows none of them quite answer for the close friendship he’s always felt for Harry. They’ve always seemed like two halves of the same whole, fitting into each other’s lives like puzzle pieces.

When he returns to the manor for tea, he finds his mother with a bright smile lighting up her pretty face. “I’ve had a letter from Anne.”

Louis perks up at this announcement.

“When are the Styles’ expected then?” He asks eagerly.

“She expects they’ll arrive at Lord Selley’s by tomorrow evening.” She says to him, still smiling. “Now, Louis, please try your best to set a nice example for young Harry. You know how he looks up to you.”

Louis barely refrains from rolling his eyes. “Yes, I know, mum. Believe me, he thinks up just as much mischief as I.”

“Oh, I believe that.” She mutters as she sends him on his way to eat.

As soon as the light grows dim the following evening, Louis becomes restless. He ponders just riding over to Lord Selley’s and awaiting Harry’s arrival, but he knows no one will approve of this idea. He sighs and begins taking an aimless walk across the rolling lawns, which is when he sees the rider approaching in the distance.

A smile that he can feel growing right into the corners of his eyes creeps across his face as he watches Harry head his way on a small mare. He can see Harry has barrelled ahead of the servant that’s been sent with him, and before Louis can react, Harry has narrowed the gap of distance between them and dismounted from his horse. He nearly tackles Louis to the ground with his enthusiastic embrace.

Louis wraps his arms around the slender body of his best friend and clings tightly. He knows it isn’t quite appropriate, but this is Harry. _His_ Harry. And society’s rules simply don’t apply to their friendship.

One day, Louis will better understand why that is.

 

**~Seven Years Later~**

 

London 1817

 

Louis usually loathes this time of year. He would normally be happy to arrive later than normal for the Season. His family has been in residence in the London house for nearly a month whilst he tied up some strings with estate business for his father.

No, this year he is not at all happy about arriving late. He chose to ride much of the journey from Yorkshire to London alongside the carriage. In all honesty, Louis often takes issue with being in confined spaces for any length of time. His nature has always been better suited to the country where he can be outdoors and active. He taps his gloved fingers against the seat as the outskirts of London give way to its narrow, crowded streets. He is nearly crawling out of his skin by the time they maneuver through traffic and arrive at the house on Curzon Street.

He breathes a sigh of relief as he steps from the carriage and begins walking towards the grand house that came with the Rotherham title. He is going to need some way to blow off steam whilst he’s in London. He doesn’t know how his father stands being such an active member of the House of Lords. Louis dreads the day he ever has to take his place for a number of reasons. His temperament has never been like his father’s, more’s the pity. Perhaps he’ll try boxing at Gentleman Jackson’s. He knows Harry has become quite proficient.

 _Harry_.

The reason he’s so anxious to be here. This Season marks the first that Harry shall spend in London. He has seen Harry less and less over the years as Harry was sent away to school whilst Louis studied with the finest tutors his father could buy. He is quite glad to be done with all that. He was never one to enjoy his studies unless they had a practical use.

Louis has always known that one day he will inherit the marquessate from his father, and quite truthfully, he sees no reason to pretend otherwise. What good is Greek or ancient history to him? A waste of time is what all that was. Louis has always used his intelligence for learning about the estate he’ll someday inherit as well as the politics his father is so entrenched in.

He is grateful at having been sent to university, though, if only for the friendships he made there, the first real friendships he had made since Harry. If only he and Harry had been closer in age, they could have done their university years together, but as it now stands Louis had left Oxford two years before, just as Harry had entered. Those two years have now passed and Harry has already arrived in London, and Louis has never been happier to join the throngs that descend at this time of year. This glad thought brings a smile to his lips as he greets Higgins in the entrance hall who informs him that his mother and sisters are out making calls, but that the young twins are in the schoolroom should Louis wish to interrupt their studies. Higgins knows him too well.

He forgoes the pleasure of utterly destroying Lady Phoebe’s and Lady Daisy’s studies in favour of being sent up tea. He’s anxious to see how Harry is faring at the townhouse Louis helped him procure for the Season, but he’s utterly famished and needs to eat something before making a visit. As he quickly eats, he thinks of how he’s spent these past two Seasons without Harry, mainly avoiding the ton’s marriage minded mothers hunting him for their daughters whenever possible.

He perhaps wouldn’t have minded so much if they’d been hunting him for their sons, but as it stands, everyone knows Louis will one day need an heir. He’s not only the eldest son of a marquess and an earl in his own right, but he’s the _only_ son of a marquess. And if that was not enough of an incentive, he also has his mother and four sisters to think of. The only decent part of this entire thing is that he need not worry about it quite yet. His father seems to be sound in both body and mind and hopefully will remain so for years to come. He tries to take comfort in the knowledge that it will most likely be many years before he must inherit.

With that thought, he calls for his valet to change out of his traveling clothes and into something clean and infinitely more dashing.

“My lord?” Oliver inquires as he enters.

“Come in. I’m in need of something to wear to visit with Harry.”

“Of course. I have the blue superfine ready for you as well as a grey striped waistcoat.”

Louis waves his hand in assent. Oliver knows he doesn’t much care about which clothes he chooses for him out of his large closet. Louis is no sort of dandy, but he does find pleasure in his fashion choices. Anything Oliver chooses will be acceptable.

When he’s clothed appropriately, he pulls on his Hessians and asks Oliver how he looks.

“Quite fine, my lord, for a visit with Lord Selley.”

 _Lord Selley_. An off handed reminder that Harry’s life has changed even more enormously than Louis’ life has recently. A line of worry creases between Louis’ brow as he ruminates on how Harry must be feeling with this new responsibility thrust on him. They’ve exchanged numerous letters just as they always have since they were boys, really, but Louis won’t be satisfied with how Harry is dealing with the sudden changes in his life until he sees him face to face and can speak with him and hear the familiar deep tones of his voice.

“Harry is the Viscount Selley.” He says aloud. “Odd that.”

Oliver remains politely quiet as Louis shakes his head as if to shake his concerned thoughts from his brain. He does make one quick stop before he heads out. He pops into the schoolroom to interrupt a quite boring lesson.

“Well, if it ain’t Poppet and Moppet, learning their French verbs.”

“Louis!” The twins screech as their governess tries in vain to keep them from any unbecoming behaviour. It’s a lost cause. Louis promises treats and kisses the tops of their precious heads, and then, he’s off. To Harry.

 

~ * ~

 

The townhouse he has helped Harry procure for the season is quite nearby. Harry had specifically asked Louis for help in finding one that denoted his new status as viscount. It had surprised Louis a bit to be honest. Harry had never seemed one to care much for the trappings of his eventual inheritance. Of course, perhaps it’s all a bit different now that he actually has inherited the title as well as the estate.

Louis has always just stayed in the Tomlinson’s London house, but he finds that knowing Harry is out on his own makes him feel that perhaps he should be out on his own as well. He could always rent rooms on St. James, and he mulls that over as he makes his way towards Harry’s. But then St. James has always seemed more proper for a younger son or a dedicated bachelor of which Louis is neither.

He anxiously awaits as Harry’s new staff, whom Louis also helped to hire, announces his presence to Harry and leads him to a small library. As soon as he enters the room, Harry jumps to his feet and strides towards him, eagerness starkly imprinted on his handsome face.

Just before Louis is enveloped into Harry’s strong arms, he’s struck anew by the beauty of his friend. The waves of Harry’s curls are stylishly tousled away from his face, his chin and jaw jutting out in a strikingly masculine way whilst his soft pink lips distract from it. What was once boyish and gangly has now nearly disappeared. Well, all but the dimples.

Harry’s smile blinds him just before his long, powerful arms reach around him.

“Louis!” Even Harry’s voice, whilst always low in tone, is now as deep as a rich velvet. “Thank god you’ve come!”

“Oof.” Louis says as Harry’s arms tighten their grip. “Of course. I’ve only just arrived in London, actually. I hope you’ve found everything I arranged for you to be acceptable.”

Harry finally releases him partly and steps back to look seriously into Louis’ eyes whilst still gripping his shoulders in his large hands. “Louis. Yes, thank you. Everything you arranged has been amazing. The staff, the house, the location. I can hardly thank you enough, really.”

As Harry drags his arms back to himself, he brushes Louis’ arm quite inadvertently, and Louis feels an odd zip of sensation run up his spine. He ignores it and sits down by the fire as Harry joins him in a nearby chair.

They begin by asking after each other’s families, settling familiarly into the rhythm of long held conversations. This isn’t the first time that an undercurrent of a more important topic has flowed beneath the surface, but none of those past chats really compares to today’s. When Harry again speaks of his thanks for all that Louis has done, he takes it as an opportunity to delve deeper.

“Your letters were fairly specific as to what it was you were looking for, Harry. It wasn’t that hard to have our staff help me find what you wanted. The only thing your letters did not really address was _why_. Why do you need all this?” Louis waves his arms a bit at the trappings of the library. “It’s your first Season amongst the ton. I thought perhaps you’d rent rooms, and we’d be young and free--”

“For the same reasons you don’t rent rooms in the West End, Louis. I mean--if things had been different--if my uncle hadn’t--then, yes I’d be ready for what we always envisioned. But as it stands, I now have--responsibilities.” Harry runs a careless hand through his curls, distracting Louis for a brief moment.

“But surely--”

Harry interrupts. “So your father has told you nothing about this then?”

“My father?”

“Yes. He must certainly know what dire straits my uncle’s-- _my_ estate is in. Honestly, I thought you’d have known as well, given you’re quite involved with your family’s estate.”

“Well, yes, I’m knowledgeable about my own, but not your uncle’s!”

“He is a nearby landowner, Louis. Even if you never realised, I’m very certain your father knows how poor a manager my uncle has been over the years.”

Louis thinks on this for a moment. “Well, my father doesn’t gossip.”

Harry gives him a fond smile. “No. He doesn’t.”

“But then, why are you spending all this blunt on townhouses and staff if the estate is--”

“I need to find a wife.”

Louis who had been leaning forward in emphasis of his thoughts flops back against the chair. “Oh.”

“My father is financing this Season for me, but I don’t intend to continue preying on his generosity.” Harry glances into the fire.  “He’s always been impressed by titles and the ton, hence marrying my mother. This isn’t the first time my mother’s family has needed a marriage to fulfill our obligations.”

“Well, how can I help then?”

A broad smile creeps across Harry’s face, deep dimples creasing his cheeks. He moves as though he’s about to tackle Louis into another embrace, so Louis puts up his hands in defense.

“Don’t even think it, Lord Selley. You’ll destroy my cravat.”

“Speaking of cravats--I need to do quite a bit of shopping. I desperately need a new wardrobe to befit the title and my--goals.”

Louis swallows down the taste of bitterness at the back of his throat. “Of course. We’ll go to Bond Street and arrange something for you tomorrow.”

 

~ * ~

 

Louis steers his curricle towards Harry’s townhouse as he lets his mind wander over the purchases Harry should consider today. If Harry’s goal is a wealthy wife, he shall need to play a certain role, which will most likely require the very best clothing and boots and hats. Although, there are always those willing to trade a fortune (and a son or daughter) for a title in the family. He reminds himself to ask Harry what his priorities are in looking for a wife. Just one with money? Or one with social standing as well?

As he is ushered inside Harry’s townhouse, he thumbs at his temples a bit to release some of the tension of his thoughts. He can’t help but feel how wrong it is to be trying to capture a bride for Harry. It’s always seemed unfair, knowing he and Harry would both one day need an heir. There had always been possibilities before now. Perhaps, Harry’s uncle would remarry and have a son. Perhaps, one of Louis’ many siblings could have been a boy. But no, these things hadn’t happened, and so now they must face what is before them.

Harry appears with a happy grin on his face as though there was nothing he’d rather do than spend the day shopping with Louis. Well, maybe there is some truth in it. Louis can’t help but return the smile. He’s just as happy to spend the day with Harry.

They make their way to Bond Street, stopping in at Lock’s for hats and Weston’s to be fitted for the most perfectly cut coats. As the master tailor takes measurements, Harry’s eyes keep a steady gaze with Louis’, and when asked about particular colours and fabrics, Harry defers to his opinion each time. He has always known Harry has looked up to him. This just seems to be a bit of a continuation of the hero worship that has nearly always been a part of their relationship. There’s something strangely _more_ about it now though. Louis can’t quite put his finger on what the difference is. He finally decides it must just have to do with age.

They turn towards Piccadilly and St. James’s Street to pop in to Hoby’s. Surprisingly, it’s there that Harry finally has an opinion, choosing to order highly polished hessians and top-boots as well as low-cut pumps for evening wear. The shoemaker takes careful measurements for just the right fit, and then, they finally find their way back out onto the teeming crowds on the streets of London.

They’ve been out for a number of hours, and even though it’s certainly not a very taxing activity physically to choose and be fitted for a new wardrobe, they’ve both spent much of the time in a silent conversation about what it symbolises.

As they step back into Louis’ curricle and Louis’ attention must be on the horses, Harry finally begins the conversation Louis has been anticipating all day.

“I know it’s not precisely the same as what I’m facing, but you feel the pressure, too, don’t you?”

“To marry?”

“Yes. I know your mother, Louis. I’m sure she wishes you to be settled.” Harry presses.

Louis thinks for a moment because whilst he does believe that’s ultimately what his mother wishes, she hasn’t been mentioning much of anything like that as of late.

“I suppose.” He finally answers. “But yes, you’re also correct that it just isn’t quite the same thing, Harry. As I don’t have a truly pressing need to marry.”

He wishes he could see the look on Harry’s face as he mutters, “True.”

Louis sighs as they turn back down Bond Street and past Gentleman Jackson’s boxing saloon. This isn’t how he envisioned life in London with Harry. He pictured them there, sparring properly, or drinking at the Castle Tavern. He pictured them at the theatre or betting on horses at Tattersall’s. He pictured them shooting and hunting. He pictured them fencing or getting admitted to the Four-Horse Club. But most of all, he simply pictured them together. He fully expected the ton to take note of a pair of Corinthians, but he had not been hoping it to be whilst dancing a Quadrille at Almack’s, trying to find a suitable bride for Harry. Lord help him when he starts appearing at every fashionable ball. The aristocratic mothers will be unbearable, shoving their daughters his way.

But he will do anything for Harry, so it will be what it will be.

 

~ * ~

 

As Louis readies for bed that night, his mind wanders over some of what Harry spoke of earlier in the day. He _does_ feel some familial pressure to be settled, but so far, it has not been due to what his family says, but more just what he knows to be true. In fact, his family has been rather silent about it all. They simply have not spoken about the fact that Louis doesn’t have the choice he desires to make in choosing a spouse. He has spent most of his life ignoring the thought that an heir must beget an heir, but now, it’s very much being thrust into the forefront of his mind.

As he climbs into his bed, a stray thought floats in; he wishes _he_ could be the answer to Harry’s problem. He closes his eyes for one tick of the clock before he bolts upright in bed. His heart pounds at the realisation of his thoughts. Surely, he was just thinking that he wished to rid his friend of his worries. He takes a few deep gulps of air and tries to settle back down amidst the pillows and try to find some rest.

 

~ * ~

 

Louis awakens far later than usual due in part to his restless sleep. He tries not to think about what kept him awake in the night, and instead, he focuses his attention on the sideboard and what to eat for breakfast. He settles into the dining room chair long after the rest of the household has eaten. As he reads _The Times_ he thoughtlessly sips his tea and eats his usual eggs and kippers.

He can’t avoid his morning purpose though, so after he’s eaten, he ducks into the library where he knows his mother will have left the endless invitations for balls and assembles and theatre parties and masquerades and alfresco breakfasts and any and all matter of dashing entertainment that the ton can conceive. He sees something addressed to him, however, that brings a smile to his face, a missive from his university chum, Lord Horan.

As he quickly reads the short passage, informing him where he’ll be this evening, Louis smiles in anticipation of seeing Niall again. Lord Horan might be just the person to help Harry navigate through these shark infested waters as he had just come into his inheritance last year. Though it had not seemed as though Niall was in any hurry to marry, Louis is sure he’ll have _some_ kind of advice for Harry. He jots down a quick note to Harry and sends it off before finding his way to his mother’s sitting room to check in on her.

He narrows his eyes suspiciously when he sees she’s busy embroidering something. “What is it that you’re doing?”

“Hmm? Just keeping busy.”

“Mmhmm. A likely story. I don’t know the last time I saw you embroidering something--in fact, I did not know you even knew _how_ to embroider.”

“Of course, I do. It’s quite relaxing. Now please sit, I’m very tired.”

Louis smiles at the thought that he must sit because she’s tired, but he doesn’t attempt to respond and instead dutifully sits. They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes as his mother attempts to feign enthusiasm for embroidery. She finally sighs and sets it to the side with a rueful smile.

“It’s actually quite boring.” She admits.

“I suspected as much.” Louis replies with a grin. “So tell me why you’re sitting here pretending to embroider.”

“Oh, I feel a bit ill, so I didn’t want to make calls today. I’m sure visitors will soon arrive to entertain me.” She glances up at him, and this time Louis sees how peaked she looks. Very odd for his vibrant mother, she must truly be ill. He eyes her speculatively, and she gives him a wan smile.

“I was going to inquire as to which balls you’d be attending tonight, but perhaps, you should stay at home.”

His mother’s lovely eyes instantly sharpen. “You’re going to attend a ball?”

“Well--yes. Lord Horan will be attending the Wraxton’s ball, and I thought I’d quite like Harry to meet him.”

She’s watching him closely, knowing there’s something else going on below the surface. She knows him far too well, but he is not ready to discuss it with her just yet. She leaves it alone for now, agreeing that she should stay in for the night, and he does not press her further on her malady. Both of them know they are hiding something from the other, and it is only a matter of time before one or both of them spills their secrets.

 

~ * ~

 

The Wraxton ball glitters in a sea of jewels, gleaming in the candlelight.  Softly coloured gowns swirl across the dance floor in gauzy splendour alongside intricately tied neckcloths and long-tailed coats. When he and Harry are announced, Louis can hear the murmurs and sense the spinning webs of many a mother’s mind at his appearance. He glances at Harry and hopes he will pass inspection in his evening best. It will be better when his full wardrobe that speaks of wealth in the form of a Weston coat is complete.

Before they get much further than the refreshments, a loud voice booms out from just behind them.

“Tommo! Here to dance every dance, I suppose?”

Louis turns to look upon the face of his dearest friend, save for Harry, and acknowledges the question with a shake of his head. “Lord Horan, most decidedly not.”

“Well, I suppose we were never known for our dancing, now were we? Don’t think the ladies ‘round about here care whether I stumble my way through a waltz. Long as I’m still full of juice they’ll keep setting their caps at me. I’m sure they’ll be even more interested in leg shackling the likes of you, Tommo.”

Harry whips his head around to look at him with concern as though he had not realised the consequences of Louis’ presence at the ball.

“Oh, ho! Or perhaps, it’s smelling of April and May right here then!” Niall says with a wink, misinterpreting Harry’s look for something more.

Harry looks at him with some alarm. “What? No! I’m--I just--we’re--”

“He’s just teasing.” Louis interrupts and turns towards Niall. “This is my friend, Harry, the newly minted Viscount Selley. Harry, this is my old university chum, Lord Horan. I think you both probably have quite a lot in common actually--”

“Except for one major thing really. The on-dit is that you’re lookin’ to become a tenant for life, Lord Selley.”

“This is his first public outing!” Louis says, astonished. “We’ve barely made it across the room, and they’ve already begun marrying him off!”

“Well, they’re not wrong, are they?” Harry states, an odd look crossing his face but for a brief moment.

Niall looks at Harry closely. “Yer a bit young, Lord Selley, to be getting yourself riveted.”

Harry stiffens, and Louis is quick to reassure him. “Don’t worry. I promise you that whatever you say to Niall goes no further.”

Niall eyes him shrewdly. “I’m guessing yer not lookin’ for a diamond of the first water as a bride. Well, not unless she comes with a hefty dowry.”

Harry’s teeth gnaw a bit on his lip. “You could say that.”

“Well, it’s a good start showing up with Tommo here; he’s bang up to the knocker.”

“I know.” A soft, sideways smile crosses Harry’s face as he looks at Louis, and it shoots a frisson of embarrassment down his spine.

 

~ * ~

 

In the wee hours of the morning, Louis stumbles back into the house on Curzon Street. He regrets in advance dipping too deep in his cups after the round of balls he made with Niall and Harry. The night has ended with the three of them becoming quite foxed in Harry’s library as Harry told ridiculous Canterbury Tales that threw Niall into hysterical fits of laughter. The more glasses of blood and thunder, the deeper and more morose Harry’s voice grew, which only caused his long-winded stories to become ever more amusing to men as drunk as they.

He makes a half-hearted attempt to creep quietly through the darkness so as to not wake the quiet house, and he nearly makes it to his bedchamber when he hears odd noises from down the hall. It sounds as though someone is casting up their accounts into their chamber pot. His stomach turns a bit. He’s probably not far from vomiting himself. He immediately thinks of the girls and assumes someone is sick, but even in his inebriated state he realises that their rooms are on the floor above this one. It’s very unlikely he’d be able to hear them. He listens more closely and discerns the noise to be coming from his mother’s sitting room. He knocks quietly before he hears his mother croak out to come in.

He finds his mother crouched over her chamber pot, half propped up by the settee, and rushes to her side.

“Are you unwell? I knew you weren’t feeling the thing earlier, but I had no idea the severity.” Louis jumps back to his feet. “Should I send for the doctor? I’ll just--”

“Louis. Stop.” She commands. “Please just go sleep off whatever you’ve been drinking. I’m fine.”

“You are _not_ fine.” He answers, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I _am_ fine.” She sighs. “Alright then. Please help me up.”

Louis rushes back to help her stand. “Should you be upright, maybe just sit, and I will--”

“I think I might need a cup of tea. Shall we rummage through the kitchen and make some?”

“What? No! I’ll wake your maid and have tea sent up.” What could she be thinking? Perhaps, his brain is just muddled by all the port and brandy he’d consumed.

“I think it is time we spoke privately about something. Come.” She seems to have regathered her strength because she is far steadier than Louis as she descends to the basement kitchen.

When the tea is ready, they tiptoe to the library and settle on the chairs. It is rather chilly on the main floor, but they at least will not disturb anyone here.

“I know you have just arrived in London, but I am afraid I am going to need to return to the country.”

“What? Why would you return? The Season has just begun! What will I--”

His mother reaches out to pat his hand with a tired smile on her face. “The London air is not agreeing with me at all, and I need my full strength for the new baby.”

“NEW BABY?” Louis nearly shouts. “Sorry, sorry. I am just a bit buffle-headed at the moment.”

“Yes, I would rather have told you when you did not reek of brandy. The smell is doing nothing for me at the moment.” She wrinkles her nose. “I shall be taking the children back with me. Lord knows everyone in this family prefers the country, and I shall have much more staff there to help me as well.”

Louis’ head has begun to throb at all the thoughts attempting to race through at once, and he presses his fingers to his temples in an attempt to counteract the pressure. One thought manages to make its way to the forefront, and a smile begins to crinkle the corners of his eyes.

“A new baby.” He murmurs, happiness colouring the tone of his voice.

“Yes, Lou.” His mother smiles. “A new baby.”

“Well. That _is_ very good news then, isn’t it?” He takes his mother’s free hand and holds it in his own.

 

~ * ~

 

The gossip makes the rounds quickly that the Marchioness of Rotherham has suddenly retired to the country. It’s not entirely shocking considering she already has five children, and whilst everyone infers why she’s gone, no one actually talks of it to Louis.

The house in London already speaks of her absence, especially with his sisters gone back to the country as well. He sees his father less and less as he seems to decide if his mother isn’t in the house, he may as well dive headfirst into the reforms being proposed in parliament. If his father happens to catch him as they pass in the night, Louis knows he’s in for a long conversation about the hopes the Marquess has for the future of England and how he sees Louis’ eventual involvement.

It’s in one such conversation that a realisation occurs.

“It is not enough that you learn to negotiate in the House of Lords and care for our holdings and land.” HIs father implores. “You must also learn how to pass along this knowledge to the next generation of Tomlinsons as I am doing now, with you.”

Louis thinks of Harry, suddenly thrust into his title and land and forced to find a way to care for it all. Louis’ lips press together in thought. “Of course. I shall do the same for my own son one day.”

“Or brother.” His father says after a hesitant pause.

“Brother? I don’t have a--oh.”

“It is possible that your mother may be carrying another son.” His father eyes him carefully as though he’s looking for something specific in Louis’ countenance. “It’s possible you may not need to beget your own heir unless you desire to do so.”

Leave it to his father to see it all so clearly. To see _him_ so clearly. “Yes, I suppose that’s a possibility now, is it not?”

“It is.” His father nods his head. “Something to consider at least. No one would ever push you down the aisle, Louis. I hope you know that. Obviously, we won’t know the outcome until your mother has the baby.”

“When?” Louis asks quickly. How had he never asked when she was due to have the baby?

“We believe late July, so hopefully, after we return to the country.” His father replies. He pauses and presses his palms together. “You know that if it were not for the succession of our line, I would not give a rat’s arse as to who you marry.”

“I know.”

 

~ * ~

 

Louis sits atop his horse in Hyde Park. He is not eying the green lawns or groves of shady trees. No, he is about to slowly trot his way down Rotten Row with two viscounts at his side during the promenade hour, Lord help him. The park is already teeming with magnificent thoroughbreds and stylish barouches and smart, sporting curricles. The look on his face must speak for him because Niall thumps him on the back with a laugh, and Harry offers him a quiet apology.

“No, do not be sorry.” Louis says quickly. “I am sure all will be well.”

He is absolutely _not_ sure all will be well. They are forced to wend their way between the many carriages and pedestrians and onlookers that crowd the Row at this time of day as they stop to speak with friends and compare notes on the horses that surround them and bow to passing acquaintances. At most he is able to move at a graceful canter, at worst a sedate walk. He plasters a smile on his face throughout, although that is what will probably cause him the most trouble, looking as though he is out to attract attention. If attention is what they have come for, attention is what they receive. Fervent admiration from the young bucks, calculating observation from the matriarchs, shy glances from the debutantes, and sly looks from the demi-monde.

“Highly successful, I’d say.” Niall pronounces as they take their now usual chairs in Harry’s library, a glass of brandy in each of their hands.

“If that is what you want to call it.” Louis says, eyebrow raised.

“‘Tis what I’ll call it, thank you. And you’re both welcome.” Niall says with a wink.

Louis snorts. “For what?”

“For easing both your paths through the ton.”

Louis scoffs at this, but Harry smiles. “I do thank you, actually. I can be quite--awkward at times. So I appreciate someone there to--”

“Don’t put yourself down, Harry.” Louis says, sitting up straighter in his chair. “You are not awkward at all.”

Harry gives him a beaming smile that Louis gladly accepts. “That is lovely of you to say, Louis, but it is not true. Perhaps I am not awkward when I am with you, but on my own is another story.”

“Well, I’ve been keeping an ear out for some possible brides for you, Harry.” Niall says eagerly.

“Have you?” Louis hears the odd tone in his voice as soon as the words leave his lips. He takes a gulp of brandy to keep from saying anything further as Niall begins rattling off the names of every young lady they met today who is rumoured to come with a hefty dowry.

He stands and crosses the room to refresh his glass as he lets Niall’s descriptions of possible wives wash over him, not really hearing a word of it. When he turns back, he sees that Harry has been watching him.

“What is your opinion, Louis?”

Louis stares back at him. “On what?”

“On all the--possibilities Niall has presented.”

“Sorry. I was not really paying attention.”

Harry’s shoulders sink as though Louis’ words have deflated him, and Louis instantly regrets his lack of enthusiasm for Harry’s plans. It is not as though Harry has many options, and the least his friends can do is support him. Hell, Niall barely knows him at all, and he has done far more than Louis has done.

“Niall, you know I am the worst listener. Care to go over the candidates again?”

Niall gives him a strange glance. “Of course, Tommo. Perhaps, we could discuss each one a bit. Narrow it down to a few to make a further acquaintance with.”

Louis does his best to smile genuinely. “Sounds like a plan.”

 

~ * ~

 

A new pattern emerges for Louis as the Season fully commences. His life becomes a seemingly endless round of balls and assemblies, theatre parties and masquerades, dances and routs, alfresco breakfasts and whatever entertainments creative hostesses manage to dream up for their guests. All with Harry and Niall at his side.

There are only brief moments, it seems, that he and Harry are alone, and he can feel the undercurrent of something left unsaid. It feels like Harry is keeping something from him, but there’s rarely a time to delve more deeply, not with Niall always present. Well, he doesn’t just share Harry with Niall. No, he shares him with the rest of the ton as well. Someday, he will be sharing Harry permanently with someone else, and this is the thought that burns a hole straight through him.

Harry has cut a dashing swathe through London. It certainly has not hurt that they formed this little trio. They’ve become _known_ , the viscounts and the earl. They make quite the formidable group, having earned themselves the name _‘the_ Corinthians.’ As in, ‘Are _the_ Corinthians going to make an appearance?’

The hosts and hostesses of the ton have been eager to claim they will be in attendance and thus they have all been inundated with invitations to the mansions, villas, and townhouses of Mayfair. Louis is almost glad his mother is not in London as he is sure she would be planning his nuptials as they speak. As it is, he is sure she is still receiving the latest on-dits from her friends in her correspondence. There have been small hints of it in his letters from her.

The social whirl is definitely becoming tedious for him. He sighs as Oliver dresses him for tonight’s round of balls. He does not even bother looking at the invitations anymore. He has released that responsibility to Niall, and he and Harry just follow his lead.

He has been meaning to speak with Niall about all the pressure he has been putting Harry under lately though, constantly asking him to narrow down the candidates for a viscountess. As he ties his neckcloth he vows to speak with Niall about letting Harry take his time. The ladies of the ton have been dropping like flies at Harry’s feet. He could ask any number of them to marry him tomorrow, and they would begin readying their trousseaus immediately. He tastes the metallic tang of bitterness on his tongue at the thought. He tells himself it is just because it feels as though Harry is going to be moving on with his life without him, just at the time he had once thought of as _their_ time. He tries to dismiss his possessive thoughts when a messenger arrives with a short note from Niall.

Louis hastily opens the small sheet of hot-pressed paper that reveals that Niall is feeling unwell and will not be joining them this evening. His eyes narrow a bit as he saw Niall not three hours ago, and he looked quite well then. But no matter, it is what it is. Perhaps, Niall just needs a break from it all. Lord knows Louis would like one, but he cannot do that to Harry.  Niall _has_ left them an itinerary to follow, which balls to attend and in which order to attend them.

He arrives a bit ahead of schedule and makes himself at home in Harry’s now very familiar library whilst Harry finishes dressing for--Louis consults Niall’s list--ah yes, Lord Payne’s ball. Louis is actually looking forward a bit to this one. He and Lord Payne had been quite friendly at Oxford. It’s too bad Niall won’t be joining them tonight to reminisce about their university days.

He pours himself a glass of brandy and takes a sip just as Harry enters the room. He nearly spits it out at the sight. Harry always looks beautiful, but tonight, somehow, he is even more so. He has quite taken Louis’ breath away. Harry’s satin breeches cling to his long legs, and the fine cut of his bottle green coat show his broad shoulders to advantage as well as emphasise the exquisite colour of his eyes. The stark white of his waistcoat is softened by the ruffles of his shirt, giving him a romantic air, and the way the waves of his hair curl over his ears makes Louis want to reach out and touch them and smooth them into place.

He is so busy admiring Harry’s form that he fails to see what Harry’s reaction to his own has been.

“Louis.” Harry croaks through the deep tone of his voice before clearing it a bit nervously and continuing. “You look--dazzling--”

Louis barks out a laugh. “I was thinking the same about you, honestly. Don’t know how anyone could deny you, looking as you do. Not that that is all you have to offer, Harry. You have so much more than that to offer.”

“I’ve been meaning to speak with you about that, actually.” Harry sounds even more nervous than just a moment ago.  “I’ve decided that whomever I decide to approach about marriage, I shall inform their families ahead of time of the financial straits of my estate. I simply cannot stand the thought of deceiving anyone. I honestly do not think it will matter as I have met quite a few who are eager to marry a title, I think, regardless of money.“

Louis stiffens a bit at how much thought Harry has likely put into this. Of course he has. It’s his life. It’s his marriage. Louis looks away and takes another drink before answering.

“You are too good for the ton, Harry.” He says quietly.

Harry shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, agitated. “No, I am not. I am just--if I cannot have what I want, than I at least want to be decent about it.”

“What _do_ you want, Harry?” Louis’ voice holds an insistence he wishes it didn’t hold.

Harry is quiet for a moment, and then, “To marry for love.”

The soft words seem to echo in Louis’ mind long after their conversation in the library. They ricochet in staccato beats as he watches Harry dance a cotillion with Lord Payne’s sister. They whisper through him as he watches him step through a quadrille with a royal duke’s niece. They burn through him as he watches him take someone in his arms, it matters not who, for a waltz.

Louis takes the hand of Lord Payne’s lovely wife and leads her to the dance floor, drawing her ever closer to Harry and his partner. He later hopes she did not take his quiet demeanor for rudeness, but he thinks nothing of it in the moment.

His eyes lock with Harry’s at every turn. His heart pounds at the gaze that sears a path of flames between them. Blood rushes past his ears drowning out all extraneous noise and chatter, leaving him with the notion he’s somehow alone with Harry. All he can see amidst the handsome dandies and the ladies in their gauzy gowns and glittering jewels is Harry, looking more beautiful than anyone has a right to look. The longing deep within him to press Harry’s lips to his own, to press his body against his, threatens to overwhelm him. His body tenses as he tries to keep his jealousy from overriding his good sense and dragging Harry away from everyone else who would try and keep him for themselves. Harry, _his_ Harry, who has always belonged with him.

As soon as the dance ends, they head straight for one another.

“Louis, may I have a word with you in private?” Harry asks, his eyes still lit with a green flame.

Louis resists the urge to immediately drag Harry through the back of the house to the garden. He tries to keep a calm pace as Harry walks alongside him, but the sleeve of Harry’s coat brushes his own as they exit the ballroom, and Louis’ heart stutters.

He gives in to pressing his hand at the small of Harry’s back, guiding him through the house until they reach a back door leading out onto a small bit of green space. There are lanterns lighting a small winding graveled path, and Louis leads him between flower beds and large neoclassical urns filled with shrubs until they reach a bench at the far end slightly hidden behind topiaries and hedged in by rose trellises.

They are blissfully alone. Finally. And Louis has reached the limit of his patience.

“Harry?” He asks, the gravel in his voice evidence of a barely contained desire. He looks up into Harry’s eyes, searching for answers.

Harry stands as if mesmerised by the sight of Louis so close. Harry says nothing until Louis takes his hand and carefully turns his palm to the night sky. He cradles it in one of his own as he softly traces a line down Harry’s palm. Harry lets out a gasp, a strangled noise escaping his throat. Harry is trembling now, and Louis wants nothing more than to take him in his arms. He looks back at Harry’s face and finds desire there, starkly evident in his flushed cheeks and darkened eyes.

Louis presses forward, sliding their lips together as he presses a hand to Harry’s hip, drawing him forward into the heat of his body. He knows how very wrong this is to be kissing his dearest friend out in the garden at a time when he should be finding a suitable bride inside the ballroom, but his desire has consumed all reason and so he slides his tongue along the seam of Harry’s lips. Harry opens to him with a low moan. The kiss feels like madness born of a moonlit night, the honeyed taste of Harry’s mouth an addiction.

One hand holds firm at Harry’s waist as the other finds its way to the nape of his neck. His fingers thread through the soft curls he finds there just as Harry suddenly presses back against him. Louis stumbles a bit as the back of his knees hit the wood of the bench. Harry nearly pushes him down onto it and then climbs atop him, never breaking the kiss. No, Harry only deepens the kiss as he straddles Louis on a bench in the back corner of Lord Payne’s garden.

Louis has never felt desire quite like this, the kind that boils the blood in your veins, heady and intoxicating. He feels himself hardening in his drawers, but he cannot seem to think beyond pulling Harry ever closer. However, this is what seems to let sense seep back into Harry’s brain. It’s when Louis’ hips give an involuntary thrust up and Louis’ hands have fallen to cup Harry’s backside that Harry breaks the kiss with a gasp.

Louis’ lips chase the softness of Harry’s but find only air. He opens his eyes as Harry scrambles off of him, backing away from the bench, his eyes wide.

“Harry?” He manages to croak out, his mind and body slow to catch on to the abrupt loss of Harry’s soft lips and the heat of his body. The fog clears from his mind when he sees a look on Harry’s face that he has come to know well in the last few weeks.

The moment is now fraught with tension as Harry looks at him helplessly, longing still evident on his handsome face. Louis wants to give him everything. Anything and everything he could ever want, and that’s when he finally knows.

“What have you been keeping from me, Harry?” He whispers. He wants the words.

Harry denies it with a shake of his head, but they both know he’s lying.

A long held bitterness rises in his chest. He may want to give Harry everything, but he cannot. Not while he does not know if he shall someday need to marry someone else, someone who can give him a child.

“At least give me the words before I go.” Why he asks this of Harry, he doesn’t know. It’s only torture for them both.

“Please do not go, Louis.” Harry begs. “Your mother--she may have a boy--”

“Yes. She may. Or she may not.” Louis bites out. “Nothing can be between us until she has the baby, but by then the Season will have ended and you will be left without options. I will not ask that of you, Harry.”

“What _do_ you ask of me then?”

Louis only realises he’s been pacing when he stops to face Harry. “The words. Just the words. Will you give them to me before I go?”

Harry hesitates the span of several heartbeats. And then, “All my life, there have been none but you, Louis.”

The words seem torn from Harry’s heart, and now Louis only wishes he hadn’t asked for so much.

“Harry--”

“No. Please. I don’t want anything back. I do not want to hear what you have to say in return. Whether you love me or don’t, I can’t bear to hear it.”

Louis can hear the tears in his voice as he says these words, and it’s all he can do to walk away. But he does.

Back up the graveled path.

Back to the ballroom where he plasters a smile on his face and bids farewell to Lord Payne.

Back to his family’s darkened house where he wakes Oliver to ready for bed and asks him to pack his things for the country.

Back to the carriage for the long journey to Yorkshire.

Back to his family and his mother’s worried gaze.

Back where he cannot harm Harry and waste his chance to fulfill his responsibilities.

But there is no way back from knowing that he’s in love with Harry and always has been and always will be.

 

~ * ~

 

When he arrives on the steps of the estate, nearly every member of the household rushes out to greet him. The younger ones eager in their excitement. The older ones curious as to his hasty return. He doesn’t really explain himself, leaving them all to believe he’s tired of London and returned home, but he knows that theory doesn’t hold up under close inspection. Everyone knows what he’s left behind in London. _Who_ he’s left behind.

His mother refrains from asking him, but she knows. He can tell in the sad glances she gives him when she thinks he is not looking. The following weeks bring him missives from Niall ringing a peal over him for leaving so suddenly, but he hears nothing from Harry. It’s just as well. They know their duty. There is nothing that can be done about it. But it does not stop him from missing him. It doesn’t stop him from wishing it all could be different. It doesn’t stop him from waffling between thinking it was a mistake to leave and knowing it was the right thing to distance himself for both their sakes.

He throws himself into the business of the estate. Eagerly awaiting each letter from his father with ideas for improvements or suggestions on investments to explore further. Perhaps if he keeps busy enough, he can keep from examining the hurt that radiates out from his heart, catching him off guard sometimes at its power to punch the breath from his lungs. It is in the night that it’s worst. He dreads the day that Harry brings home a wife to the Selley estate. So close by. Too close by to avoid.

Louis wonders what he will do then. Move permanently to London? He shudders at the thought of leaving the Tomlinson estate for good. He coughs out a bitter laugh. He cannot leave for good. Someday, this will be his estate. Will he leave it with an estate manager just to avoid Harry? He punches his pillows trying not to let his mind keep him awake another night.

The next day he rides out to visit tenant farms and thinks long and hard as he travels over the acres of the estate that he cares for so deeply. The only thing, the only _person_ , he loves as much as his family and estate is Harry. Yes, he loves him as more than a friend now, and he believes that love to be mutual. But Harry was his friend first. Will he give up their lifelong friendship over jealousy? Give up Harry for things over which they have no control?

As dusk settles over the summer hills, Louis rides back to the manor in a new frame of mind. He has been wallowing in sorrow, and it is time to stop and face the reality of the situation. He has always known he would never marry for love. He just never expected to fall in love in the first place. It is done now though, and perhaps he should be grateful to be experiencing it at all, to be loved and to be in love. As soon as he is back at the manor, he shall write to Harry straight away. He will apologise for fleeing and make sure Harry knows that he shall always have a friend in Louis, no matter what may come. The Season is winding down, and Harry will be home soon. Whilst he would have heard if Harry were married yet, it does not mean that Harry has not made his choice. He may even be engaged now. Louis tries not to dwell on it as he makes his way into the manor house and then all is suddenly forgotten amidst the uproar he finds upon entering. The baby is coming.

 

~ * ~

 

Louis paces the library, a glass in his hand that he keeps refilling with brandy. It’s quite unfortunate his father is still away as the baby is coming earlier than expected. He suddenly hates that he is the only other adult in the house somewhat responsible for his mother. When his sisters were born, he never felt anxious or concerned, but his father had always been close at hand, and he had been younger when the girls were born. No one had expected anything of him then.

When they finally come to tell him that the birth is over and that his mother is doing well, all he can think of is seeing her and making sure for himself that it’s true. He immediately races up the grand staircase two steps at a time to check on her for himself. When he walks in, he looks at her in shock. His mother is holding two babies, one in each arm.

Louis stares at her in amazement and then smiles as brightly as any sun.  “Well, well, well.”

His mother beams at him, a beautiful smile on her tired face. “Would you like to meet them?”

“Of course.”

She nods at the bundle on her left. “This is Doris.”

Louis can feel his heart expanding in his chest as if to accommodate this new little life. “Doris.”

His mother nods to the bundle on her right. “This is Ernest--your brother.”

Louis can feel how widely he’s smiling, joy threatening to spill from his eyes. “A brother? I have a brother?”

She nods, happiness and exhaustion caress her face in equal measures.

He stares at Ernest in amazement. Finally, after all these years and four--no five--sisters, he has a brother. And in this moment, it’s all he can think of--that he finally has a brother. He loves his sisters fiercely, but a brother can be more to him. His sisters will someday marry and leave; a brother will stay. For the first time, he allows himself the thought of someone to help him when his father is gone. Someone who will love this land the way that he does. Someone who can help him keep his family intact by both action and name. Oh.

His eyes dart to his mother’s as the realisation finally hits him.

“I know you love babies.” His mother says with chuckle. “But I think there’s something you need to do. Someone you need to see.”

“What? No. I’m sure it’s too--I’m sure he’s--”

“Please go, Louis. We shall be fine here. Please, go take your chance at happiness. Do it for me if no one else, that I will have the chance to see you happily settled.”

He shakes his head with a smile. “Always pushing.”

“Of course.”

As soon as he leaves the room he rings for Oliver to begin packing his things. He’s going to London.

He doesn’t get very far. Not long after he begins readying for his journey, he finds he has a caller. He strides quickly to the library and bursts in to find Niall enjoying a fine Cognac.

Niall raises his glass in a toast. “Good day, Tommo! I have just heard from Higgins that we are celebrating today.”

Louis grins as he joins Niall, sitting in a nearby chair. “We most certainly are. Today is a good day. The best day. I have a new sister and brother on this day. But what are you doing here, Niall? Not that I didn’t long to see your face, of course.”

“Of course.” Niall scoffs. “Figured I’d pay ye a call, seeing as how I’m in the neighbourhood.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Just happened to end up in Yorkshire? Where are you--oh.”

He stops mid-sentence to look at Niall for confirmation. He’s given a small, sympathetic smile in return.

“I’m here in Yorkshire with our friend, Lord Selley.”

Louis jumps up from his chair. “Harry is here?”

Niall eyes him closely. “Yes. He is. Don’t think he could stand another day in London to be honest.”

“But his goals? Did he find--is he--”

“I think perhaps ye should talk to the man himself. Of course, I heard ye was to head back to London today. Have those plans changed then?”

“Yes, Lord Horan. They have.”

He leaves Niall in the library and heads directly to the stables. He rides neck-or-nothing towards the Selley estate. As he comes thundering across the land and comes in sight of the manor, he sees a figure out across the lawns. Harry. He slows just a bit as he rides directly towards him before he swings off his horse and strides quickly to him. He forgets all his questions, forgets all his good sense, and plows straight into him, embracing him tightly. He tucks his face into the crook of Harry’s neck and breathes him in. Harry had immediately melted into his arms, but now he suddenly stiffens.

“Louis?” He asks, his voice muffled by Louis’ coat and perhaps some emotion.

“Yes?”

“I need to speak with you.”

Louis pulls back just enough to look upon the face he loves, has always loved. He sees some worry there, and he wants nothing more than to sweep it away. There’s something he needs to know first.

“Are you married?”

Harry looks at him, shocked. “What? No! I wouldn’t marry without telling you--”

“Are you engaged?”

“Louis--no--I--”

This is all Louis needs to hear. He presses forward capturing Harry’s lips with his own. He feels a brief moment of confusion from Harry before he enthusiastically returns the kiss, pressing his long body against Louis. The kiss is everything and nothing like he remembers. Whilst the first kiss was born of passion, this one is of intent. He hears Harry whimper against his lips, and it breaks through the fog in his mind enough to recall that Harry is yet unaware of any change in their circumstances. He slowly, reluctantly pulls away.

Harry slowly opens his eyes as Louis watches the short huffs of breath from his pink, swollen lips. How he wants to kiss them again. To kiss away the look of confusion on Harry’s handsome face. Instead, he takes Harry’s hands in his.

“Louis, I have much to say. I’d rather not have this conversation out on the lawn.” Harry says, his eyes on the ground. Louis can feel Harry’s nervousness rolling off him in waves. It makes him anxious that there is yet some other impediment in their way, but Harry keeps hold of his hand as they walk Louis’ horse to the stables, releasing it only when Louis hands over his horse to a stable boy.

Louis follows him into the house. It’s immediately obvious that the owner is not flush with money. The shabby carpets and faded curtains need replacing, and there does not seem to be an abundance of staff.

Louis’ nerves return that Harry has something more to tell him than he wants to hear as they near the library. Harry slides the door closed behind him and then stands before him, his teeth pressing an indent into his bottom lip.

It may be Harry’s house, but Louis again takes his hand and leads him to a large sofa near the fireplace. “Come.” He commands gently, and Harry does.

They sit close enough that their knees touch, and Louis tries to begin. “Harry, I know that--”

“No, Louis. Please. May I speak first? I am not sure at all what you’re thinking at the moment, but I’ve spent these weeks without you, putting a plan into place.”

“A plan?”

Harry runs a hand through his hair. “Yes. It took some time for me to decide what might be possible, and then, when I was sure, I consulted your father.”

“My father?” Louis asks in surprise.

Harry nods. “Louis, I don’t want to be without you. I thought--perhaps I could go through with it when I didn’t know your heart. But even without hearing you say the words, I know I cannot be with someone else, someone who isn’t you. I couldn’t woo a debutante so deceitfully when I knew my heart belonged to another. That won’t change, Louis. What I’m about to ask of you is a lot, but I’m going to be selfish and ask it of you anyway.”

Louis has no idea what Harry could mean, and he has his own questions to ask Harry. But he tries to be patient for him and let him continue.

“I spoke with your father about the succession of your title and mine.”

“Oh.”

“The titles were not my main concern though. I’m the last of my line, but I am fairly certain only my father gives a whit about titles. I was and am concerned of course about the Selley estate and caring for it properly. Your title and estate if you were not to produce a son or if your mother does not have another son, they will be passed on to a distant cousin.”

Louis makes a move as if to interrupt, but Harry touches a finger to his lips.

“Please let me finish before I lose my nerve. What I am asking is for you to wait.” Harry takes a deep breath. “I am asking you not to marry. I’m asking you to look after your family and estate without a wife and without having your own heir until all your sisters are married and secure.”

“And then what happens, Harry?” Louis asks quietly.

A scared, helpless look crosses Harry’s face, and his voice cracks as he answers. “And then, you marry me, Louis.”

“So you would wait, too? That’s many years to wait. Your estate would be in danger without a marriage between us. You would risk your estate and for what, Harry?”

“For love!” Harry abruptly jumps from the sofa, and Louis watches as he braces himself against the books on a bookshelf, facing away from him. “I would risk it for love. I would risk it for you. I know it is a lot to ask of you. To ask you to allow your title and lands be someday given to an unknown person.”

Everything has thrown Louis for a loop today, but he finally has his bearings enough to put a stop to Harry’s thoughts.

“I met him today, actually.”

Harry whirls around. “What?”

“I met the future Marquess of Rotherham today. His name is Ernest and he’s quite wrinkly and small, but I am sure he’ll look quite adorable soon.”

Harry stares at him speechless as Louis carefully walks towards him. “Aren’t you going to congratulate me? It’s not every day a man gets a brother.”

“Louis!” Harry gasps out.

“Yes, love?” Louis answers.

“You have a brother.” A cloud lifts from Harry’s face and the brightness of his smile nearly blinds Louis.

“You have a brother.” Harry repeats in wonder.

“It’s what I came here today to tell you. I came to beg you not to marry another. I came to ask that you marry me instead, even though it does mean your title will not survive beyond you, but our estates can combine and our heir will be the fine gentleman born today with his equally adorable sister, Doris.”

“Doris?” Harry exclaims. “Your mother had twins? Again?”

“That she did. Harry?”

“Yes?”

“May I kiss you now?”

Harry wrinkles his forehead in thought and puts a finger to his chin. “I’m not sure it would be proper. Why we aren’t even engaged!”

“We’ve both said we wish to marry the other!” Louis proclaims in mock outrage.

“Ah, but there’s been no proposal.”

Louis drops to his knees. “I do not wish to spend even one more minute apart from you. These arms, these hands, they were made for holding you and keeping you safe, and I vow to always do so. Harry Edward Styles, Lord Selley, will you marry me?”

Harry’s eyes glitter flashes of green. “I have always loved you, Louis. Long before we ever thought the same thing.”

Louis smiles widely to hear Harry declare his love for him. He stands and presses his forehead to Harry’s.  “Was that a yes?”

“Of course it was a yes!” Harry says as throws his arms around Louis’ neck and kisses him fiercely.

It knocks Louis off balance, and they stumble back against the sofa. Louis groans at the feeling of Harry’s body beneath him. He brings their lips back together, tasting the sweetness of his mouth. He cannot seem to control his hips from thrusting against him. Harry gasps against his mouth, and Louis looks into Harry’s eyes darkened with passion and wonders if he should stop.

“Please don’t stop.” Harry begs as he plants his hands on Louis’ arse and rolls his hips upward against Louis, causing him to cry out in pleasure at the sensation against his hard cock obviously straining against his drawers.

Louis places his hand over Harry and strokes a few times over the impressive bulge in his tight breeches. Harry strains against his hand and then pulls Louis closer again. They rut against each other as Louis returns to their kiss, deepening it as their thrusts grow more and more frantic until they’re both spilling into their drawers. Louis collapses back into the sofa and Harry quickly snuggles into his arms. They lay panting, regaining control of themselves as Louis absentmindedly strokes Harry’s curls.

Harry stirs a bit in his arms. “Louis? When did you know you loved me?”

“Mmm.” Louis murmurs. “I think I always knew. It was always you, Harry.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos and/or comments if you liked it! You can [reblog this post, and I shall love you forever](http://allwaswell16.tumblr.com/post/166433490756/one-day-youll-say-these-words-by-allwaswell16). <3
> 
> Huge thanks to my betas and Brit picker as always! 
> 
> Original prompt: Royalty AU (set in whatever time era you want) where they're both princes from neighboring kingdoms at a formal ball, being forced by their parents to find themselves lovely ladies or gents to dance with for the night, to at least make it look like they're trying to find a potential significant other. But in reality, they've been best friends since their mothers had them on play dates with each other since babies, and they're half in love so they sneak away from the ball to wander the courtyard and palace grounds.


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